


I Can't Help But Think Of You

by louisniall



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, First Time, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Harry and Louis are sickeningly cute, M/M, Nervous Louis, Riding, Rimming, Top Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:24:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisniall/pseuds/louisniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He looks up and Harry's brows are furrowed and his already pouty lips are turned down farther into a frown. "You really think I'm going to evaluate you from past experiences? You — you think I'm going to evaluate you at all? Lou," he says, his voice soft as he sits on Louis' bed, "you could be absolutely atrocious at sex and I'd still want to have it with you every second of the day because it's you and I'd be as close as physically possible to you and I love you." </i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Louis kind of feels like he wants to burst. He loves Harry so much that he wants to explode rainbows and butterflies and condoms and lube and everything happy and lovable. He realises Harry's waiting for his answer while he's been smiling to himself. "I'm just not ready yet, y'know? I've — I've been watching porn all day to try to learn something," he says, blushing down into his lap. Harry laughs and looks fondly at him, wrapping him up in his arms. </i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>"That's alright love. Whenever you're ready. I could wait forever." </i></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>just another nervous!virgin!louis fic where they're in university and everything's cute and fluffy and dandy</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Help But Think Of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violet_hour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violet_hour/gifts).



> thanks to [skye](http://archiveofourown.com/users/strong) for beta-ing this before i sent it off into the fic exchange world ! love you kiddo !
> 
> i hope [violet_hour](http://archiveofourown.com/users/violet_hour) thinks this is a good fic and really really enjoys it ! i enjoyed writing it for you love, hope it's everything you wanted it to be !
> 
> any other mistakes are mine mine mine, don't blame skye, it means we both didn't see them and they were stupid little ones like a missing letter ! 
> 
> title is from the song "skulls" by bastille ! enjoy :D

Louis has no idea what he's doing — his fingers are caught up in strings of colorful thread wrapped around his fingers in long loops tied together in a knot, and a set of longer fingers are holding it with a giggle.

"Just — okay, your pointer finger on your right hand? Grab the top part of the middle string and then the top part of the top string, twist your finger and pull to the right and take the top string with you — yeah you got it," Harry says, smiling down at him. "The boys are gonna be jealous of your fine craftsmanship, Louis Tomlinson."

"I can't Harry," he says as a string falls off of his finger. "It's too hard."

Harry frowns. "Just do it slowly. Watch," he holds out his fingers and Louis loops the string over his fingers just like he had on his own. Louis watches as Harry's fingers move incredibly nimbly and smoothly for someone with two left feet. A beautiful, and seemingly incredibly simple, bracelet forms from where Louis' stupid fingers are holding the end of the strings for him. "See? Easy. You try." Harry loops the strings back around Louis' fingers and waits. Louis looks up at him and tries to move the left string to his right hand like Harry did.

Louis grimaces as the string falls off of his finger again and goes limp between his hands. "I can't do this, H," he says, dejectedly slumping forward and letting the rest of the strings fall forward. "Isn't my love a good enough friendship bracelet for you?"

Even though theres a slightly hurt look in Harry's eyes, he still leans over and kisses Louis' forehead. "Of course it is, babe. I just like bracelets, and you're the only one I haven't forced one out of yet."

Louis snorts. "Forced?"

Harry clears his throat and holds out his left wrist. He points to a blue and white thick bracelet. "Forced this one out of Niall two weeks ago," he says with a mischievous smile. "Cost me two pence and 3 cans of beer."

"You can't even _buy_ beer, Harold. Are we going to have to have a talk about illegal purchases?" Louis' just teasing him, of course, and Harry just smiles sheepishly.

"I might've — you know how a few beers were missing from your fridge two weeks ago and Zayn said he took them?" Harry pauses and Louis absolutely knows where this is going, but he has no will to be angry at Harry about taking some of his pride and joy. "I took them and paid Zayn to say he did. He made me actually pay him as well, like, he didn't let me off easy like usual."

Louis laughs at the last bit. "You had to pay him? Like, _money_?"

Harry frowns and furrows his eyebrows. "No, not money. Weed," he says, complete seriousness etched into his features.

Louis stops and raises his eyebrows. "You found a dealer on campus and didn't tell me?" Now Louis is just a little annoyed. A little. Harry shrugs.

"Thought you were done with weed."

"You can't just be _done_ with weed, Harold," he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighs and stays silent, collects himself for a moment before he looks up with a soft smile. "If I _have_ weed, I'm going to smoke it. But if I don't have any, I'm not necessarily looking for a dealer like a prostitute for a client, you know? But if you happen to know one, certainly don't keep it to yourself."

Harry nods and his expression softens. "You know I don't like you using."

Louis sighs. He shuffles closer to Harry and wraps his arms around his broad shoulders, places a kiss on his left one and lays his chin on it. "It's not like I'm a stoner. At least it isn't, like, heroin or meth."

Harry laughs a little and cranes his neck back and to the side and kisses Louis' nose. "At least it isn't heroin or meth."

"How did you get it anyway?" Louis asks. Harry throws him a questioning glance. "The weed."

Harry nods in understanding and sniffles, silent for a moment before answering. "I got it from this kid in my anthropology lecture who sells to all the anthropology and history majors," he says. "I originally got it for Niall because he paid me to get it since he's an engineer major, but it came in handy with Zayn, so."

"Is he cheap?" Louis asks out of pure wonder.

Harry seems to contemplate answering but must realise that not telling him will probably result in problems and a lot of tickling. "£100 per ounce if you're a history or anthropology major, £150 if you're a minor in either. If you're a major and minor in both it's £50 an ounce."

The last quantity takes Louis by surprise. That's the _cheapest_ he's ever heard. "Who the hell majors in anthropology and minors in history or vice versa?"

Harry giggles. "Me and him. That's it."

Louis scoffs and punches his shoulder. "You twat."

"But you love me, right?" Harry asks, his puppy eyes and pouty lips in full force and Louis leans forward to place a kiss against his lips.

"I love you a lot, Harold," he says, nuzzling into his shoulder. He's then being lifted and finds himself sat in Harry's lap, his feet hanging off the edge of his bed and his back being warmed against Harry's chest.

Then the door slams against the wall and three rowdy, cold boys fly into the room and sit themselves down on Harry's bed across from Louis. "Break it up, cuties," Niall says, throwing shopping bags onto the floor and turning on Louis' X-Box. Louis sighs and leans his head back, tilted so that Harry has no choice to kiss him.

"Yeah sure Niall, you can come in. We weren't having a grand enough time without you," Louis says, spreading his legs and hooking them over Harry's folded own.

"Fuck off mate," Niall says, though there’s a smile etched onto his face as he takes a controller held out to him from Liam.

"Did neither of you have classes today?" Liam asks them, his eyes glued to the FIFA game as he chooses his team. ( _Who the hell picks America? What a fucking idiot._ )

"I have a class at half eight today, and thats it," Harry says, his voice vibrating Louis' back. Harry's hands are seemingly unconsciously running up and down Louis' arms in a comforting sort of way, though nothing's wrong.

That's the thing about Harry Styles. He can be quiet when he needs to be, giggly at all the right times, and always a loving boy who'll comfort Louis even if he refuses to say what's up. He's a selfless, beautiful person, with green grazing plains for eyeballs and a thousand-watt smile that makes Louis _swoon_. Louis has this feeling that Harry's soul is actually a fairy or a princess — _a fairy princess_. Because princesses are so kind and always lovely and beautiful and when they mess up it's always okay, there aren't any major problems because a princess can always resolve her situations. It's like he's untouchable, like he's this superhuman _god_ that for some reason chose Louis has his ordinary human boyfriend.

Louis wishes he saw some of that in himself — all the lovely qualities Harry has that Louis doesn't. He wishes he could return all of Harry's favours to him, like comforting him when he's upset or being an absolute beast whenever Harry decides _let's kiss for hours and maybe end in a nice mutual handjob exchange._ He wishes (if he had the money, mind you) that he could buy ten boxes of pizza and leave them out in the dorm commons for the students who are a little low on cash and haven't had a decent meal in a few days. He wishes he could hold a _job_ to earn that money he yearns for. He just isn't as good of a person as Harry and he _definitely_ doesn't deserve someone as amazing as him.

"You're in that class? That fuckin' sucks mate," Zayn says, his feet resting in Liam's lap as he presses the buttons to shoot a goal. He scores and Niall groans.

"Give Liam your controller, I wanna win," Niall says.

Just then Harry stiffens behind him. “I forgot I have my shift at the cafe,” he says into Louis’ ear. Louis deflates. He was so _comfortable_. “Wanna come?” Louis turns his head and smiles and nods and hops out of Harry’s lap.

“We’re going for Harry’s shift at the cafe. Beer’s in the fridge and there might be a few chips left in the bags under my bed if anyone’s hungry.” Louis shrugs on his coat and grasps Harry’s hand in his. They make their way down the chilly hallway and then outside to the even chillier evening.

As their walking down the path towards the cafe, swinging hands in between them, Harry tugs Louis off the path onto the grass under a tree with fiery leaves and an old, carved trunk. “Won’t you be late?” Louis questions. Harry smiles and shakes his head.

“I haven’t got a shift today,” he says, pulling Louis down with him to sit against the trunk of the tree. “Just wanted to get out with you.”

“You’re like, a majorly cute dork,” Louis says, flicking the tip of his nose. Harry giggles and puts his arm around Louis’ shoulders, warm and inviting and strong and protective.

The way their campus is set up is that from the tree they’re sat at, they can see over Kedleston road with all its cars and see the slow moving and chilly Markeaton Lake, and the frost beginning to cover some of the grass and trees ahead of them. There’s a few billows of smoke coming from various halls behind them that they can smell, and there’s a faint smell of coffee and eggs coming from the cafe that serves breakfast all day. There’s another couple walking along one of the paths a little ways away from them, heading towards the hall that Liam and Zayn transferred from in their first year to be closer to Niall, Louis and Harry.

When Louis first started university he was one of the only freshmen paired with a senior for a roommate — his name was Nick and he was the _worst_ person Louis has ever met. He was so glad when Nick left that he celebrated by getting drunk by himself three days straight. His second year of uni left him alone in his room, but Zayn, Liam and Niall all joined him and they quickly became friends. His third year bore the same setting — alone in his own dorm room. Finally in his senior year he receives a letter that they let in too many freshmen and he’d be acquiring a roommate. He groaned when he got the letter, threw it across the room and angry-texted Zayn for over three hours that night. On moving in day he was sure to be out of his room when the freshman moved in and managed to avoid him until the first day of classes when he forgot his biology textbook in his room and the boy was sitting on his bed, looking through some of his CD’s. The boy looked up and gave a weak smile, and maybe it was the weak smile or Louis’ reluctance to _care_ about avoiding the roommate, but either way his roommate is his best friend and his _boy_ friend and he’s really, really happy he forgot his bio textbook the first day because the first thing he said to Harry was, “Coffee?” and he luckily agreed.

“I’m your dork,” Harry says, his breath rising in wisps as it leaves his mouth. Louis knows they’re being ridiculously cute and it’s disgusting and he can’t help but care because he loves his big giant idiot too much. Harry sighs. “I wanted to bring something up to you.”

Louis goes rigid and thinks, _Did Harry Styles just bring me out here to break up with me?_ He shakes the thought from his head and clears his throat. “Go ahead.”

“I don’t — I’m going to sound like a complete and total arse but — I mean — Why haven’t we — you know?” Louis looks over and he’s doing that childish finger-through-the-hole hand thing that signifies _sex_. Louis shrugs.

“Dunno. We just haven’t. Why?”

Harry coughs. “I really want to.”

“I know.”

“So why don’t we?”

Louis changes the subject off of him, he’s getting too uncomfortable. “How come you want to so bad?”

Harry huffs. “Because for twenty-first-century uni students sex happens to be a big part of a relationship.”

“Have you ever had sex, Harry?” Louis asks, beginning to feel incredibly self-conscious but hiding it under an impassive face.

“Yeah, I have,” he says. “What’s your point?”

“I haven’t got a point, I was just asking.”

“Have you?” Louis stays silent and picks at a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "Louis?" He ignores him. "Louis, talk to me. It's okay if you haven't."

Louis shakes his head. "I haven't."

Harry breathes out heavily through his nose and pinches its bridge. "Are you scared?"

Louis scoffs and kicks a dead leaf away from him. "No, absolutely not."

"Then, I don't mean to be rude, but why won't you have sex with me?"

Louis really doesn't like this conversation. He really _really_ doesn't. He isn't nervous, certainly not. He just doesn't really know what to do and he's afraid he won't be good enough for Harry.

He must be talking out loud or something because Harry's arms wrap around him and he whispers in his ear. "You'll always be good enough for me."

*****

"I'm gonna lose my mind," Louis says, sitting on Zayn's bed helping him roll a few joints.

"Just keep rolling," Zayn says. "We're almost done."

"Not about _that_ ," Louis says, licking the paper and finishing the joint he was working on and putting it in Zayn's altoid box. "I'm out of luck."

"How so?"

"Harry's asking about sex."

"Oh," Zayn says, sparing him a chaste glance. "You should just tell him."

"Oh yeah, totally. 'I won't have sex with you because I've no idea where to put my dick and you're experienced so I'll probably just suck at it.' Hows that?"

"Sounds good," Zayn says, ever helpful.

"Nobody helps me the way you do, Zayn," he says, lying back on the bed helplessly.

"What d'you want me to say, Louis? All I can tell you is to watch porn or sleep over in here and you'll get an earful."

Louis smiles. Even Zayn knows how ridiculously loud he and Liam are when they're in bed together. "Have any good porn websites?"

Zayn puts down the joint he's working on and stares at Louis exasperatedly. "You've never watched porn?"

"The fantasies in my head are better than over-exaggerated female orgasms," he says, pointing his finger at him and Zayn nods.

"Okay," Zayn says. "Okay. Porn." He taps his chin and reaches over into his night table for a sticky note and a pen. A few seconds later Louis becomes the proud owner of a list of porn websites written in Zayn's chickenscratch handwriting.

"Perfect," Louis says.

"But like you said, porn's like, majorly exaggerated. So like use protection and if you're gonna fist him don't just shove your whole fist in his hole and call it a day," Zayn says, starting back on the joint he'd put down.

Louis smiles and folds the note in his pocket. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you _cared_ about me, Zayn Malik."

"I actually fucking hate you."

"I love you too, Zayniepoo."

*****

Louis' eyes hurt. He's never seen so many dicks in his whole life. He never really thought having a tongue in your arse would feel _good,_ but it's apparently so because every time it happens _someone_ comes. It's incredible.

Harry comes in while he's watching a video and he shuts it quickly and opens up a blank page on Word. "Hi love," Harry says, kissing his forehead. "Good day?"

"Yeah, got an A+ on my bio essay from last week," he says. Harry nods. "I'm almost ready."

Harry looks up from where he's searching for something in his bag. "Pardon?"

"I'm almost ready, to, you know," he does the hand motion and Harry smiles softly.

"You don't have to rush yourself, babe," Harry says. "If you don't want to, we don't have to."

"No, Harry," he rushes to say. "That's not it. Like, I want to but —" his mind is a tornado of _don't say it don't say it don't say it,_ "— but I'm too scared? I don't know what to do, really. I mean, I get the concept, but not what to _do_ and you're experienced and I'm not and I won't be good enough."

He looks up and Harry's brows are furrowed and his already pouty lips are turned down farther into a frown. "You really think I'm going to evaluate you from past experiences? You — you think I'm going to evaluate you at _all_? Lou," he says, his voice soft as he sits on Louis' bed, "you could be absolutely atrocious at sex and I'd still want to have it with you every second of the day because it's _you_ and I'd be as close as physically possible to you and I _love_ you."

Louis kind of feels like he wants to burst. He loves Harry so much that he wants to explode rainbows and butterflies and condoms and lube and everything happy and lovable. He realises Harry's waiting for his answer while he's been smiling to himself. "I'm just not ready yet, y'know? I've — I've been watching porn all day to try to learn _something_ ," he says, blushing down into his lap. Harry laughs and looks fondly at him, wrapping him up in his arms.

"That's alright love. Whenever you're ready. I could wait forever."

Louis is so disgusted with how _cute_ Harry is but he kisses him until they're both panting anyway.

*****

The biology test Louis is taking is making him incredibly uncomfortable as he remembers which circle is the prostate and which is the bladder. There's literally a dick in front of him and his cheeks are getting hotter as more reproductive questions pop up under the diagram. He shouldn't be embarrassed — he's a biology major for fuck's sake — but with the amount of porn he's been watching lately, he can't seem to keep a straight face.

He finally finishes the test and hands it in and dashes out of the room, as he's late for a coffee date with the lads. He rubs his eyes a few times and even stops at a bathroom to throw water on his face, and makes it to the cafe ten minutes late and chilled to the core.

"Hi lads," he says as he sits down, breathless. He's relieved when Harry pushes him a black tea and he gulps it at once, scalding his throat. He probably should be paying attention to his friends but once his eyes lock with Harry’s over his teacup he can’t tear his gaze away. Harry raises his eyebrows and flickers his eyes to the door, and before Louis can say no, Harry stomps on his foot under the table and Louis dribbles tea down his chin onto his white shirt.

“Ah, Louis, look what you did,” Harry says, hiding a smile. “Wanna go change your shirt?”

Louis just nods and the others look at them suspiciously as they get up and leave. They burst out into the coldness again and Harry’s hand immediately finds Louis’. “I just wanted to get out of there,” Harry says into his ear.

“I had a feeling since you stepped on my foot really hard,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. Harry stops.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Harry asks, genuine concern in his eyes. Louis cracks a smile.

“All of my toes are broken from your stupid big feet, Harry,” he says, but Harry lets out a relieved breath and kisses him briefly.

"They've started a fire in the commons and I wanna sit there with you," Harry says, walking again and tugging Louis behind him.

Louis is so fucking _gone_ for this boy. "And you know, do other things."

Louis sniffles. "What 'other things'?"

"Talk about things for when you're ready," Harry says, squeezing Louis' hand.

Louis tries not to think about what the hell Harry could possibly have to say to him about the subject and soon enough he's hit with a wave of warm as they step into the eerily-empty commons. They take a seat on the couch and both warm up for a minute, listening to the comforting crackle in front of them. "What do we need to talk about?"

"It's really nothing important," Harry says. "What kind of condoms, kinks either of us have, what flavour of lube if we want flavoured lube, things we like and things we don't." Harry looks at him. "That okay?"

Louis' brain is a disaster area. "Yeah, fine. Sounds good. You start."

Harry laughs. " _You_ have to start because the condom's going on _your_ dick."

Louis blushes. "Oh. Right. I mean, any condom is fine, I'm not particularly fond of my cock going from hot to cold whenever it chooses, though."

Harry types something on his phone and nods. "Can I get ones that I know are good?" Louis cringes but nods, his head full or of _past experiences are better than you'll ever be._ "Right, lube?"

Louis shrugs. "What flavours exist?"

Harry snorts. "Pretty much all of them. Strawberry Kiwi is a really good one."

"Strawberry Kiwi it is, then," Louis says. Harry frowns.

"But what if you don't like it?"

"If it's anything like those Strawberry Kiwi Capri Sun's they have, I'll be fine." Harry smiles. He clicks once and types and then looks at Louis again. The fire hisses.

"Things you like and things you don't slash kinks," Harry says.

"I'm basically okay with everything. I'm not much of a kinky person, I guess. Just — like, no fisting," Louis says, blinking back an image of this positively tiny man being fisted by a fucking body-builder. He shudders.

Harry sniffs. "No kinks," he says as he writes it out. "We'll get you there."

Louis makes a mental note to groan later when Harry asks him to spank him or something like that. "What about you?"

Harry sniffs again. "I mean, like, bondage is a kink, spanking slash paddling slash flogging slash whipping are all ones as well, exhibitionism, orgasm denial, pretty much anything I'm open to try," Harry says, seeing the terrified look on Louis' face and laughing. "But just normal sex is perfectly okay too."

"Good," Louis says, exhaling harshly. "Because I've no idea how to deny you an orgasm with your cute little face."

Harry slaps his arm, feigning offendedness, but he's laughing all the same. "Shut up, you prick."

Louis laughs because this was so much easier than he thought it was going to be. He was thinking it would be a full on interrogation of Harry begging on his knees to _please fuck me Louis I've waited almost a whole year I can't_ do _this anymore!_ But it wasn't and Louis is so thankful that it didn't happen. But there's a part of him that wishes it did so he'd get out of this stupid fucking _rut_ of abstinence and suck it up and just fuck his boyfriend already. It's disgusting and sad.

*****

The other boys come knocking on their door just as they finish cleaning up a cheetos-and-blowjob party. Louis opens the door in his boxers and they storm in. "Hello to you too," Louis says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Harry laughs from his naked position under his covers and watches Niall set up the sacred XBox. "Do you lads only like me for my XBox?"

"Absolutely," Zayn says, but he smiles as Niall hands him a controller.

"What are you playing, then?"

"It's always FIFA," Niall says. "Has been for three years."

Louis nods and thinks, _duh_. Of course they're playing FIFA, it's the only game any of them own. He sits down next to Harry and watches them play.

"So the other day I was in my maths lecture," Niall starts, "and this girl says I sing like Michael Bublé! How fuckin' sick is that?" Niall says animatedly, bouncing on Louis' bed.

"Pretty fuckin' sick, mate," Louis says with a smile. "How's she heard you sing?"

"Mate of mine posted a video of me on YouTube," he says, scoring a goal and grinning. He turns to Zayn. "Are we still on for that bet?"

"If you win I buy your food for a week? Yeah," Zayn says.

"That's the dumbest thing you could ever agree to, Zayn Malik," Louis says.

"Believe me, I know. I'm in it because Niall fucking threatened to fuck Liam if I didn't."

"He couldn't get a hand down my pants if he tried," Liam says, flipping through a magazine he's produced out of thin air. "I'm thinking of getting ' _Property of Zayn Malik_ ' tattooed on my ass to prove my point."

"Don't," all four of them say at the same time.

Liam pouts and Louis snuggles into Harry's side, his nose pressed to his curly hair and he takes a deep breath. "You smells so good, H." He says it loud enough so only Harry can hear him and he sees him shudder under the covers. "Does that turn you on?"

It isn't dirty talk, more of a real question, but Harry nods and whimpers and shudders again and _holy fucking shit_. "Wait, really?" Harry nods again and curls in closer to Louis. He takes a deep breath when he feels the unmistakable outline of _yeah, it turns me on_ pressed against his thigh. He suddenly wished the boys weren't here but he'd feel awful kicking them out. "You can't expect me to give you a handjob right here, Haz." But when Zayn scores a goal and the game cheers Harry whimpers again and ruts against Louis' thigh pathetically.

"Please," Harry says into Louis' back. "Please, Lou."

Louis wasn't really expecting such a reaction out of Harry for a semi-public handjob, but he really couldn't possibly _ever_ say no to the pouty eyes and lips Harry's learned to bring out at the worst of times. He can't say _no_.

So if the boys notice Louis sitting back against the wall with Harry in between his legs and put his knees up to conceal the movement of his hand on Harry's cock, he doesn't really fucking care, because his boy is happy.

It's quick and ends even before the half of the FIFA game — Harry coming in sticky spurts with his teeth buried in Louis' bicep painfully. When he's finished spilling he goes limp in Louis' arms and Louis kisses the top of his head.

“Thank you,” Harry says quietly. He snuggles his head into Louis’ armpit and breathes deeply.

“You know,” Niall says, pausing the game, “if you’re gonna give each other hand jobs while we’re still in the room, you should probably learn to be more discreet.”

*****

They have a few days off for Rosh Hashanah and Harry goes home to see his family and celebrate, and promises he’ll smuggle back some of his mum’s matzah ball soup if he can. That leaves Louis to an empty room for a few days and he does nothing but think about all the things he could be doing with Harry and isn’t.

He sits back against his pillows with a cuppa and a joint Zayn gave him at the cafe this morning and crosses his feet. He takes a long drag of the joint, letting the smoke curl within his lungs and make them burn deliciously, and lets it out in short bursts through his nose and mouth that make him feel like a dragon.

His mind wanders to thinking about what Harry's doing, whether he's still driving up, listening to the only CD he owns composed of the Arctic Monkeys, the 1975, and Kodaline; or whether he's already laying in his own bed, sighing contently at the smell of home and being with his family. He wonders if Harry misses him, but then quickly dismisses the thought because, _of course he misses you, you fucking idiot. He's your boyfriend!_ He thinks about the paper he has to write and the speech he has to give and the textbook reading he needs to do and takes another long drag of the joint and holds in the smoke for as long as he can.

He slips into the mindset of _you're wasting Harry's time_ when he thinks about Harry's kinks, and realises he's right. They've been together for nearly a year — it will be on the first of October — and all they've done is handjobs and blowjobs and rimming each other silly. Harry must be dying for a shag. Which makes him briefly think, _why is Harry still waiting for me? What if he's cheating? It would explain the waiting patiently,_ but he shakes the thought from his head because Harry could never kill a fly nor break a boys' heart.

Louis was never fond of Harry's past, mostly because it revolves around vodka and sex and various different boys and girls. Louis knows about every single one — boy, girl, threesome, shot, party — and doesn't ever think he could see his lovely, sweet boy that way. The Harry he knows is mellow and kind and thinks everyone deserves a chance, gets fantastic grades and befriends everyone. He can't see a Harry that gets drunk and fucks around everyday. When they first started dating and Harry told him he was his first long-term relationship, Louis almost laughed in his face until Harry told him everything, layed it all out on the table. It's still incredible to him how Harry can have such a big heart and a ridiculous past.

But he realises Harry loves him, would do anything for him, would walk to the end of the universe and back if Louis wanted a cup of tea made of stars. He realises that Harry's faithfully waiting for him, patiently, not pushing him to do anything he doesn't want to and Louis loves him to _death_. Louis kind of just — he wants to give Harry the world and more, wants to give him the expanding universe and everything else he can possibly think of — but he feels like that by holding out his celebacy, he's ruining a part of their relationship. The sensical part of him knows that's far from true — that even if he never wanted to fuck Harry, Harry'd still love him and he'd still love Harry — but he still wants to give Harry everything he possibly can.

It's then, in his above-the-clouds state, that he boots up his laptop and watches 3 straight hours of porn and wanks off till his hand his sore and his cock is sensitive to the touch, and only then does he call Zayn and cry to him that's he's a wimp and a failure and he can't make Harry happy because he's a shitty boyfriend. Zayn walks through the rain and cold to Louis' dorm with his stack of Disney movies and Louis finally calms down halfway through _Tangled_. "You aren't a shitty boyfriend," Zayn says, his eyes not leaving the screen. "You know? I don't think you realise how much Harry loves and values you. Like, you've never seen you two together from the outside, and the way he looks at you is as if you're the universe." A new wave of tears hits Louis and he cries into Zayn's shoulder for a while. He stops again just after Flynn and Rapunzel get married and sighs against Zayn's shoulder.

"You alright now Lou?" Zayn asks. Louis nods, sniffles and nods again. "You sure? Cos Liam's waiting for me in the library."

Louis waves him off. "Go, I'm alright, mate. Promise."

Zayn nods and hops off the bed, takes his DVD out of the XBox and waves. "Feel better, babe."

"Thanks love," he says. He watches Zayn go and then gets up off the bed and washes his face in the sink with lukewarm water. It runs down his face and hits the collar of his shirt and drips down his neck to his chest. He hears his phone ring from his bed and quickly goes to answer it. "'Lou?"

"Hi love," Harry says quietly. Louis softens immediately. "How're you?"

Louis swallows. "Good, good. 'M good. What about you? How's the soup?"

He can hear Harry's smile through the phone. "It's good, all good. Truthfully I wish you were here but," he seems to pause and shrug, "guess not."

"Yeah. Yeah," Louis agrees, playing with a loose string on his jumper. "Wish you were here too."

"Mmm," Harry says. "Sorry it's so late, babe. Just wanted to hear you talk."

Louis pauses. _Late_? He glances at his clock and realises its nearly 9:30, which means Zayn was lying about the library, which closes at 9:15. "No worries, love. It's fine."

"How're you feeling?" Harry asks, and Louis immediately knows the question isn't about his health.

Louis takes a deep breath and lets it out before he answers. "I'm feeling good, H. Really good."

There's the buzzing of a silent phone line for a minute and then a breath that sounds like it came out in the shape of a smile. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. He cups his hand around his mouth as if there are a million people listening to him talk. "I think I'm ready for the medicine."

Harry barks out a laugh on the other line and Louis envisions him clapping like a seal. "And you say _my_ jokes are bad!"

“Yours are bloody _awful_ , Harry Styles,” he says, laughing. “Mine at least make sense!”

“Come on,” Harry says. “ _Fungi_? That’s the only one you ever use and everyone hates you for it,” Harry says, his words still smiling through the receiver. “At least _I_ have more than one joke.”

Louis scoffs. “You have a horrific one about giraffes, might I remind you. People don’t want to _know_ you when you tell that one.”

There’s silence at the other end of the line but Louis can still feel Harry’s grin radiating from Cheshire. “Love you,” Harry says.

Louis smiles softly, his cheeks warming appropriately, like they always do when Harry says that. “Love you too.”

Louis knows their entire relationship is so fucking cheesy and disgusting but he can’t help but love every second he gets to be with Harry and even when he’s, like, a million miles away at home, he knows Harry loves him more than anything and he loves even these little conversations over the phone. They make him swoon a little bit.

He’s head-over-heels for this boy. He’s fucking _gone_ for him.

*****

It’s incredibly unceremonious how they actually end up in bed together, and it’s unplanned and Louis is a nervous wreck.

Niall’s over because Zayn and Liam are out for their bi-weekly date at the Papa John’s on Park Farm Drive. Niall’s playing his guitar while Harry is making ramen noodles for them in the dorm kitchen downstairs. “So,” Niall says, “have ya done it yet?”

Louis snorts. “No.”

“Why not?” Niall sounds interested, but clearly does his best to look and sound impassive, plucking out something akin to maybe an Ed Sheeran song or it might be Ellie Goulding — he can’t tell, it’s too confusing for Louis.

Harry, the beautiful boy, struts in then holding a tray of ramen noodles and sets it down on the floor, and that’s the end of Niall’s interest in Louis’ sex life as he’s on the floor eating _all_ of the ramen. “Do Zayn and Liam not feed you or something?” Harry asks, sitting down next to Louis and taking a bowl for himself.

“I get extra food every time I don’t walk in on them fucking,” Niall says, his face contorted into some sort of strange smile.

Maybe ramen with Niall isn’t romantic, well, it _isn’t_ romantic — but somehow Louis is itching for Niall to leave because he wants to get his hands all over Harry. “Niall,” Louis says, somewhere through his second cup of noodles, “don’t you have that term paper to write?”

Whether Niall catches on to Louis’ hinting or did actually forget about his term paper, his eyes widen and he curses loud enough for the whole campus to hear him. “Fuck! I totally forgot — thanks mate,” and he’s out of there with two bowls of ramen in his hands.

Harry lets out a cackle when the door shuts. “I’ve _never_ seen Niall leave that quickly.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Me neither.” Harry clears his throat next to him and he looks over. Harry’s sat with his hands folded across his lap, shifting on the floor.

“You okay?” Louis asks. Harry nods.

“Fine.”

But clearly he isn’t and Louis doesn’t know how it happens because he somehow ends up underneath Harry’s body being snogged out of his mind. Harry’s tongue is mapping out the inside of his mouth, his teeth grazing Louis’ lips beautifully, and Louis is just a lax body under him, unknowing what to do in this situation.

And it’s over way too soon, because Harry shimmies downwards and pulls Louis’ jeans down to his knees, letting his cock ( _when the hell did it get hard?_ ) spring free and land on his stomach, the soft material of his sweater soothing the aching tip. He groans when Harry attaches his lips to the tip and sucks filthily around it, his tongue running along the ridge of his tip and dips into his slit.

“Oh my _god_ , Harry,” Louis moans, his voice already a wreck, his hands playing with Harry’s hair. “ _God_.”

Harry chuckles around his length and that’s a whole nother thing in itself, the vibrations moving all around his shaft and it feels so fucking _good_ that he bucks his hips up on accident and quickly apologises when Harry chokes a little. “Fuck, Harry, fuck, I’m so sorry — fuck, are you okay?” He’s a nervous wreck and he doesn’t know why — Harry’s blown him so many times before he has the feeling memorised, so much to the point that sometimes when he watches Harry’s lips move in conversation he can feel the phantom touch of them locked on his cock.

Harry pulls off, a smile on his face. “I’m fine, babe,” Harry assures. He ducks back down then, sucks him for another few minutes beautifully before Louis really can’t take it and pushes him off backwards onto his back.

He crawls on top of Harry, kissing his neck and leaving a pretty purple mark there, runs his hands down his torso and slides his cold fingers under the material of his t-shirt, playing with his nipples. Harry moans, a little tiny one, but there nonetheless. “Good?” Louis asks, because he genuinely isn’t sure.

Harry nods and throws an arm over his face. “I want you so _fucking_ bad.”

Louis snorts and makes a split second decision to pull down Harry’s pants and reach into Harry’s bedside table for the lube he knows he keeps there. He leans down and pulls Harry’s legs up so his arse is pretty and exposed in front of him, and takes a tentative lick around Harry’s hole and Harry moans so loud he’s sure Liam and Zayn can hear it from Papa John’s. Harry’s a puddle under him, whimpering and begging _please please please_ as Louis slowly licks around Harry’s rim, poking his tongue against his hole and letting out a surprised little gasp when his hole gives and his tongue slips into Harry’s arse. Once that happens, Louis is practically relentless — fucking his tongue in and out of Harry’s hole with no mercy, his beautiful pleads only egging Louis on until Louis is a crying mess on the floor, begging _please Louis oh fuck please again again yes please_. He pulls off though, filing this in the back of his mind for later that Harry’s a mess when he’s rimmed.

He leans back for the lube on the floor and flips the cap. He dribbles some onto three of his fingers and circles one around Harry’s rim and, yep, Harry’s gone, he turns into putty as Louis pushes his finger in. This is unfamiliar territory for Louis and he has no idea what he’s doing — he’s never _been_ fingered or fingered someone and it’s a little terrifying. He thinks back to maybe what some of those pornstars did and what he read online. They say that you just move it a little, but enough that the person is squirming, and about three knuckles in there’s a little spot that if you hit it, oh, the prostate, the person you’re pleasing goes crazy.

So he tries it, pumps his finger in and out slowly, adds in another one when Harry asks desperately, his voice breaking into a moan halfway through the plead. He _can’t_ find Harry’s stupid spot, and it’s starting to frustrate him. He rubs all along the top of Harry’s walls, crooks his fingers this way in that in search of the famed prostate and when he finally hits it — oh _god_ does he know.

Not only does Harry convulse around his fingers, clamp down tightly on them, but Harry _comes_ , entirely untouched, just from Louis’ little fingers. Louis’ eyes widen and he mutters a _fuck_ under his breath. Harry’s practically sobbing above him, his arm off thrown off his eyes and locked into Louis’. “God, Lou — don’t fucking — _shit_ — don’t fucking stop.”

Louis doesn’t, he keeps pumping his fingers in and out slowly, relishing in Harry’s pretty moans when he hits his spot every once in a while. Louis’ hand is starting to cramp and his dick is starting to ache where it’s still very perky in between his legs. “Haz,” he says. “Haz? Where d’you keep the condoms?”

Harry snorts, rolling his eyes. “In the drawer, babe.”

Louis pulls out his fingers and watches Harry clench shut at the loss and rummages, on his knees with his pants around his thighs, through the drawer for a condom. “Your arse looks so good, Lou,” Harry says, and Louis feels a big palm squeezing his left cheek and a dry finger circle his hole dangerously.

“Not now, babe,” Louis says, turning back around and giving him a kiss, condom in hand. “Another time.”

Louis is nervous as he tears open the foil, nervous as he rolls the condom down his aching dick, nervous as he puts on an over-generous amount of lube onto his cock, nervous as he looks down at Harry’s pretty form — spread out and flushed, his shirt lost somewhere in the room, along with his jeans, his necklaces resting on his chest, his tattoos a lovely contrast to his milky skin — nervous as he takes his jeans off so he can maneuver fully and freely, and nervous when Harry sits up and kisses away his worries.

“Let me make this easy for you, okay?” Harry says, his eyes warm and glowing and also lust-blown and dark. Louis nods, falling back against the side of the bed when Harry pushes him, takes Louis’ shirt off, and climbs into his lap. “You ready?” Harry asks. Louis nods and — holy fucking _shit_ — he’s been missing out.

Harry takes the base of his cock and lowers onto it slowly, using the bed next to Louis’ head for something to hold onto, and sinks down until his thighs are pressed against Louis’, and only then to they both let out simultaneous moans and kiss softly. Harry starts moving then, in small up-and-down increments that drive Louis up the wall. His dick feels so good, there’s so much pressure from Harry’s walls pulsing and moving around him, Harry’s breaths and moans in his ear, Harry’s cock dribbling precum onto his stomach and it’s all so good Louis doesn’t think he’ll last long before he’s coming.

He does though, surprisingly. Harry starts moving faster, up and down quicker, his lips a pretty bitten red, lube coating the insides of his thighs, and Louis swipes some of the precum onto his fingers and sticks them in Harry’s mouth, and thank the gods that Harry whimpers and sucks on Louis’ fingers eagerly. Harry bounces harder and faster, occasionally hard enough that the sound of their skin slapping together echoes throughout the room. “ _Fuck_ , Louis,” he groans, his fingernails digging into Louis’ shoulders painfully.

Louis is so overwhelmed — not only by the pressure around his cock, the stinging from Harry’s fingernails, the beautiful body of the boy bouncing on his cock — but his _love_ for Harry, his undying _love_ for the boy in front of him, how sweet and caring he is, how beautiful. how kind and knowing, how amazing and incredible and willing for Louis —

His thoughts are interrupted when Harry slams down on Louis’ cock incredibly hard and Harry comes hot and sticky all over Louis’ chest, his moans incredibly beautiful and filthy and amazing all the same, and he collapses forward, tears leaking down his face onto Louis’ chest, whether from the power of his orgasm or Louis hopes maybe because Harry loves him so much, not because it was the worst sex he’s ever had.

Louis doesn’t even register that he’s come, doesn’t realise it until Harry slides off of him in a heap onto the floor and his cock his spent and sensitive and the condom is filled with his cum. It doesn’t matter though, doesn’t matter that he didn’t really remember his first sex-induced orgasm, because he strips off the condom and cuddles into Harry on the floor, despite the mess on his stomach and a spilled cup of ramen next to his head. He snuggles into his boy and Harry wraps him in his big arms, kissing the top of his head.

“Thank you,” they say at the same time, and little chuckles leave both of their lips.

“For what?” Harry asks.

Louis shrugs. “Just — thank you. For waiting all this time and still acting like you liked it.”

Harry snorts. “Even _I’m_ not _that_ good of an actor, Louis Tomlinson. That was quite honestly the best sex I’ve ever had, and I swear about that.”

Louis feels this flood of emotion and affection for this boy and suddenly wants to kiss him breathless, but he’s unusually tired and his limbs feel heavy, and Harry kisses the top of his head again he falls asleep with a mess on his stomach and Harry’s nipple just under his nostril, and it’s perfect, it is.

*****

It’s as if Louis has some post-sex glow, because the next morning when Zayn, Liam and Niall come over they bring celebratory Chinese take-away and neither of them mentioned anything about them finally fucking.

“Congrats, lads!” Niall says, barging his way past Louis and setting an ungodly amount of food on Harry’s desk. “Took ya long enough!”

Zayn snorts from where he somehow magically appeared on Louis’ bed with Liam next to him, their hands adorably intertwined. “Don’t mind him. He’s living vicariously through our sex-lives because of the lack of his own.”

Niall puts on a mock offended expression and Harry starts passing out containers of food. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know I _do_ have a sex life, thank you very much.”

“Your hand doesn’t count, arsehole,” Louis says, and everyone laugh, including Niall.

“Well _I_ think it should,” Niall says, taking his food from Harry and plopping himself down on the floor. “You just have to promise to warn me if you two are gonna fuck while I’m around. I don’t need another pair of these two,” he says, pointing darkly at Zayn and Liam, who aren’t paying attention, instead disgustingly feeding each other dumplings with their fingers and giggling.

“No promises,” Harry says, but he smiles at Louis and unceremoniously attempts to kiss Louis with a mouthful of noodles. Louis laughs, some of the noodles falling out into his lap and harry laughs, kissing his cheek instead and rubbing his back.

So maybe it took a year and maybe Harry’s still really kinky and probably unsatisfied with his lack of a spanking or whatever, but from what Louis can tell about his boy, Harry’s really happy with what he’s got, this newly-non-virgin of a boyfriend who lets noodles fall out of his mouth mid-kiss. But it’s all good, and Louis is certainly happy with what he’s got. He’s gone for Harry, that’s for sure.

(If Louis silently fucks Harry with his hand over his mouth in the bathroom over the counter while the others are playing the new FIFA game, no one has to know, even if the boys know what they're doing. He doesn’t care — he loves Harry. He loves sex too, he might even be a new-sex addict. He might become one of those. Oh well.)


End file.
